


Chain Me, Erase Me (Like You Do)

by redqueentheory



Series: I'm With the Band [24]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Biting, Facials, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Impact Play, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Slapping, Threesome - M/M/M, a whole joke section about trains, author's obvious love of bechamel sauce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redqueentheory/pseuds/redqueentheory
Summary: Taako has complaints. Brad considers the Bureau's Flexibility and Inclusion Policy. Kravitz has requests.





	Chain Me, Erase Me (Like You Do)

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to heed the tags on this one, folks.

Kravitz was expecting something more like this to start with. As the months have passed he has watched both Brad and Taako fall back into well-worn roles - Taako stridently bratty, Brad smirking and disdainful - all of it carefully crafted, all of it false, melting away into fondness when the game is played out. He's only vaguely thought about his own role in the tableau - he's perfectly happy to be an invested observer.

Right now Brad clearly has other ideas, because here he is; on the floor of the apartment he shares with Taako. Taako, who's currently whimpering wet and loud around Brad's cock; Taako, who has Brad's hand fisted in his hair at the back of his neck; Taako, who Kravitz is gently working open on his fingers.

The casual half-smirk on Brad's face is unbreakable even with Taako eagerly choking on his cock, though Kravitz thinks that might have to do with how easily he was swayed into participating.  
  
"That's good," Brad croons at both of them, and nods at Kravitz. "Do you think he’s ready, now?"

"I- I think so," Kravitz says, caught off guard by how thick his voice is, how obvious his desire. "Normally I'd  _linger_  on it, but-"  
  
"Why don't we ask him?" Brad suggests. Tightens his grip in Taako's hair. The easy possessiveness of it is like a kick in the chest, and Kravitz inhales a vicious breath, the thudding of his heart loud in his ears.

Brad tugs Taako backwards in a short, sharp movement; loose, thick strings of spit and precome stretch and break, and Taako gasps a quick breath, whines "Pleasepleaseplease babe just  _do_  it, I-"  
  
Whatever else he was about to say is lost in the choking noise he makes as Brad fucks roughly back into his mouth. "Unequivocal, it seems."  
  
"Yes," Kravitz agrees, immediate, withdrawing his fingers and lining up for a thrust of his own. "It does."  
  
The sound Taako makes when Kravitz fucks into him is choked, thin, desperate. He must lose concentration for a moment, because Brad thumbs at his chin, sliding through spit, pushing it back in between Taako's lips. "Oh, pet, you really have gotten sloppy, haven't you?"

Kravitz watches, spellbound, the deliberateness of Brad's cruelty sparking his own carelessness; he digs into Taako's hips with his nails, puts a little more force behind his own thrusts than a real person could probably muster.  
  
"Do you ever make him choke on you like this?" Brad asks, conversational, hand still fisted in Taako's hair.

This, too, is part of the performance; Brad asking something designed to humiliate both of them, Taako listening but unable to contribute, Kravitz' composure neatly punctured by what all three of them know is a rhetorical question.

He shakes his head anyway. "No," he says, for Taako's benefit. "Tried to avoid it, actually."

Brad grins at him, all teeth. "A mistake."  
  
"Y-yes," Kravitz breathes, and then flashes a rueful smile. "Never thought to ask, what an absolute oversight."

Brad's grin widens. He's not looking at Taako, but Kravitz knows this is all still for him; Taako might be choking on a cock, drooling around someone thrusting into his mouth while Kravitz fucks him, but it's a welcome objectification. He gives into it - tips his head back and lets his mouth fall open, just a little. Watches from under hooded eyelids, varying his pace to see what will make Brad’s breath come faster. When he hits on the ideal rhythm he stays there, relentless, until Taako sounds frantic and Brad’s chest heaves, sheened with sweat which Kravitz longs to lick.

"Stop," Brad says, voice like sandpaper, eyes still on Kravitz' face as he pulls back roughly on Taako's hair.

Kravitz does as he's told, immediately and without protest, the wild spark he sees briefly in Brad's eyes its own reward. Then the orc's focus returns to Taako, gasping wetly between them. Brad runs his thumb through the slippery mess on Taako's chin. "How close are you?"  
  
Kravitz feels rather than hears himself makes a small noise, repeats it when Taako says, "I could come right now if you let him fuck me again, asshole."

"I don't think so," Brad purrs at him. "I think you're going to come without him moving at all. I'm going to fuck your mouth while your boyfriend holds you in place for me, and if that's not enough it certainly will be when I come down your throat."  
  
Taako spits a curse but Brad is looking at Kravitz, openly seeking assent. Kravitz knows how glazed he must look, but nods anyway, stupefied. "Is that really-"  
  
"He's done it before," Brad says, with a smirk. Kravitz closes his eyes and breathes. This is still just a game, but knowing that isn't enough to hold back the wave of arousal that sweeps through him at the image of Taako, coming untouched with his mouth on Brad's cock.  
  
But there's still a role to play, here. Kravitz opens his eyes. "I'm quite miffed you kept these proclivities from me, love," he says, faintly chiding, imitating the edge in Brad's voice as best he can. It's as close as he's going to get to openly aligning himself with Brad's obvious goal to reduce Taako to rubble. There's sly appreciation in the look on Brad's face as he leans over to stroke Kravitz' cheek, just barely, a tender brush of fingers at odds with the rest.  
  
"I'm right here," Taako says, wetly sullen. There's a beat, and then Brad backhands him across the mouth, casually, not enough force to do any real damage but he gasps and pulls against the grip in his hair. Kravitz startles, twitching, ready to protest at least for show until Taako moans out a thick "Gods, just  _do_  it," and he can't help his own, echoing groan.  
  
Brad loosens his grip on Taako, gestures. "Would you?" Kravitz leans forward and slides his hand into Taako's hair; gentle at first, but then he tightens his hand to just shy of vicious, and pulls. Taako’s neck arches backwards as he gasps and Kravitz gives Brad a searching look.   
  
“Beautiful,” Brad murmurs - to both of them, Kravitz thinks. He thumbs at Taako's face, again; the unsteady little noise it strips from Taako's throat, the way he shivers, tenses and relaxes, makes Kravitz think it must be the place Brad's hand connected. For a moment, Kravitz thinks they might be about to unspool the tension, change tack to something steadier, but then Brad thrusts back into Taako’s mouth. Kravitz does as he's been told, holding Taako steadily, implacably, in place, as Brad fucks his face.  
  
"Your boyfriend listens far better than you ever did," Brad says to Taako, layering one hand gently over Kravitz' on Taako's head, running the tip of a claw on his other hand up the velvety skin behind Taako's ear. He sees Kravitz watching him, smiles and says, "Your turn. It won't take long if you use his ears."

Kravitz leans forward again, strokes a fingertip on his spare hand up the outside of Taako’s ear; Taako makes a strangled noise and his ear flicks back involuntarily against Kravitz’ hand.

"I'll never grow tired of this," Kravitz murmurs, and smiles to himself. "I knew they were sensitive," he says, to Brad. "But not-" He rolls Taako’s earlobe between thumb and forefinger, huffing quietly with laughter at the ear’s continued flicking, hips twitching when Taako lets out a bubbling groan around Brad.

“You can pull if you like, sweetheart,” Brad says, devastatingly relaxed. “I think it probably hurts but it does really work him up.”

Kravitz grips the tip of an ear and pulls, sudden and sharp. There's a small sound from Taako but his whole frame draws in on itself, and the clenching around him makes Kravitz pull reflexively on Taako's hair. "Gods, love, you really like that, don't you?" he says, unthinking; pulls again, harder.

Taako whines as he comes, choking around Brad's dick, pulling forward against Kravitz' grip; Kravitz stays still only through pure force of will, pouring all his concentration into fending off his own orgasm, desperate to draw things out. He hears himself say " _Taako_ ," his voice cracking.

Brad pulls his cock out of Taako's mouth again, wipes a thumb forcefully over his lips as he gasps for air. "There we are," he says, mockingly sweet.

"The ears thing is cheating," Taako says, but there's a telling rasp to his voice which strips any venom from the words.

Brad doesn't bother answering, just looks up at Kravitz, who at this point is seconds away from begging. "You've been so good, sweetheart," Brad says. Kravitz twitches, inadvertent pleasure at being praised. "Why don't you let him go, set your own pace."

Kravitz relinquishes his grip on Taako's hair immediately, slides a firm hand down his back. Withdraws, and pushes forward again with a quick snap of his hips, wrenching a stifled cry out of Taako whose head drops forward, hanging down between his shoulders to pant.

Brad sits down on the floor, supremely unruffled despite the insistent erection, still glistening with Taako's saliva. He shuffles forward, plants a hand behind himself, fingers digging into the fashionably plush rug. Taako dragged him to a homewares shop in Neverwinter to buy that rug, Kravitz thinks.

Taako noses forward, nudging towards Brad's cock, but there's a cluck of his tongue, mocking disapproval. "No, pet. I'm going to come on your face."

Kravitz can't help but echo the thin noise Taako makes, can't take his eyes off Brad as he strokes himself, purposeful now, pressing the callus on his finger against the underside of his cock. Kravitz speeds up his thrusts to match his pace to Brad’s hand.

“I can see why you picked him, he’s very pretty like this,” Brad says to Taako. Brad slides a thumb through precome, pushes it into Taako’s mouth. “You'll have to settle for less than usual, pet.”

Kravitz knows he's staring, shameless, tracking the movement of Brad's hand with an intensity which must look unsettling from the outside. But Brad is perfectly assured as he looks back to Kravitz' face and then down to his chest, the flex of his arms. "What are you thinking about?"

The quiet of the room is punctuated by the slap of Kravitz' skin against Taako’s. “Your cock,” Kravitz says, breathless but unabashed. “Can't decide where. I do enjoy being ruthlessly fucked but Taako obviously loves choking on it, so it's a tough one.”

The reaction is immediate and gratifying; Brad inhales sharply and increases the pace of his hand, hisses “I’m sure I'll find time to- accommodate you-”

Taako noses forward again, mewling, and that must be just enough. Brad comes with a moan, and even though he can't see it Kravitz can picture it, impossibly filthy; Taako’s cheeks, chin, lips, striped with come. It's too much, and he can hear himself, voice scraped raw, saying “Oh, hell, Taako, I’m-” But the sentence chokes off into a high, forceful noise as his eyes flutter shut and his hips stutter and jerk.

Through the haze Kravitz distantly hears Brad say, "Don't. Keep your mouth shut.” And when he manages to look again, Brad has Taako's chin firmly in his hand; Taako, who for the moment is silent.

"Good boy," Brad murmurs, strokes a finger down Taako's face. "That was very good, pet." He looks up at Kravitz, who’s panting still as he drinks them in.

“Come here,” Brad tells both of them as he shuffles backwards to lean against the couch. Not quite ready to graduate to the couch, which is perfectly fine with Kravitz. They're sticky enough that avoiding the upholstery seems wise.

The two of them slot into place on either side of Brad's chest; Kravitz slumps heavy and languorous against Brad, curled around his hip. The routine is a familiar one by now - curl together on a pleasant surface, talk quietly about trivialities, ground themselves back in normality.

Kravitz says nothing for the moment, preferring to let the conversation murmur on without him. His limbs feel heavy, molten metal setting in place, and he's barely begun to drag himself out of his fuzzy-brained stupor when a slow, insistent pulse starts up at the base of his skull.

Not  _now,_  Kravitz thinks. If there's a cast of petulance to it, well, no-one knows but him.

It's not the first time he's been interrupted by work, and certainly won't be the last. It's not even that he resents it particularly - hard to stir the energy to resent something he's been at for so long - but this is inconvenient even for Her.

He delays for as long as he can. He focuses his attention in on the low, musical sound of Brad's voice, the answering post-coital lilt from Taako. Sinks a little further into his own pleasant daze. The summons will eventually be impossible to ignore, but for a respectable ten minutes Kravitz lolls against Brad's chest, absorbing his warmth and affection, however understated and cast in responsible coddling.

When the pulse sharpens into a thud, radiating through his skull, Kravitz taps a soft hand on Brad's belly and goes about the business of extricating himself.

Two sets of bemused eyes follow him as he stands. Kravitz presses two fingers to the back of his head. "I'm being summoned."

"I didn't realise you were on call," Brad says, frowning.

He isn't, technically, but that just means whatever's going on is bigger than usual. "It's a flexible sort of arrangement sometimes."

Taako is frowning, too. "Krav," he finally says, plaintive. "Can't you just, you know." He does something complicated with his hands. "Skip? Make Barry get it, that nerd probably needs the practice."

Kravitz laughs; can't help feeling fond. "Darling, I would if I could." He leans back down again to cup Taako's face in his hand; presses forward to kiss him. Tastes Brad there, faint but unmistakable, which settles hot in his belly. "You'll barely have time or space to miss me, I'm sure," he murmurs.

Taako cracks a reluctant smile. "Come back quick," he murmurs in return.

Kravitz leans up to similarly farewell Brad, who looks...concerned.

"Will you be all right?" Brad asks, even as Kravitz leans in to kiss him. "This was-"

"Perfectly lovely," Kravitz finishes. "I'll be fine, I'm not the one you were trying your best to put out of action." He grins. "Next time maybe."

"Are you gonna get changed in here because try not to leave any of your fuckin ectoplasm or whatever it is-"

"I'll wait," Kravitz allows, "until I'm there." Smiles back at Taako and Brad, curled together on the floor with an easy, familiar intimacy that trips his heart in his chest. Or would, anyway, in a person with mortal anatomy.

"I'll see you both soon." He doesn't bother with the artifice of the knife; the scythe is in his hand as soon as he thinks about it, and then there's a door in the air, and then comforting cold closes in behind him as the headache immediately dissolves.

\--

The scrape of curtain rings is a perfect, immediate reminder of the first time Taako slept over with Brad. The noise hasn't gotten any less grating, but it's his own apartment this time, and Taako can just tell Brad to fuck off. Which he does, without preamble.  
  
"Time to get up," Brad tells him pleasantly, but with the sort of edge in his voice that promises  some kind of sexy punishment later, and shit, now Taako is caught between the inviting fog of sleep and the burgeoning heat in his belly.  
  
"Make me," he mumbles, grinning lazily as he cracks his eyes open to see Brad towering over him, the collar of his threadbare pyjama t-shirt dipping invitingly low on his chest. "Can't throw me out of my own place, be a bit much even for you." Even as he says it there's a crackle over his skin at the thought of being manhandled.  
  
"No," Brad says. "But I can go to brunch without you."  
  
Taako squints at Brad through his hair. "Krav's not back."  
  
"No," Brad says again. "That's why we're getting up now, so we'll have time to walk."  
  
"Walking's for plebs," Taako retorts, but he's still too bogged down in sleep to keep his ears properly casual, and he can feel the one not currently trapped against his pillow flattening out. "Let's just stay here, I'll magic us some french toast, we can fuck on the counter, all good."  
  
Brad pads over to the bed, then, and sits down next to Taako's face. "Taako."  
  
"Mmmh?" Brad smells so good, still sleep-warmed, but there's no mistaking how serious he sounds. It's unfair of him, Taako decides, to smell like that when he's about to be all weird and grumpy and make Taako feel unreasonable about something.

Brad says nothing. Taako knows by now he uses silence like this - deliberately, a tool to draw more out of people - but knowing it's a trick doesn't stop Taako from falling for it. He squirms, uncomfortable.

"It's just easier," Taako says, reluctant. "With Krav." The silence continues. "Easier to get there, easier to bail. Takes less time, no-one has to do the ‘ _so_ -good-to-see-you-here's-my-update- _so_ -sorry-gotta-go’ waltz, we all get to eat our eggs in peace and go home."

"You were fine in Landfall with me," Brad says. "And you managed Refuge all right."

"I can  _do_  it, I just don't  _wanna_ ," Taako says; he can hear how petulant he sounds but doubles down. "Why wouldn't I use Krav to make shit easier?"

"Because he's not always here," Brad says. Taako is about to make a rude noise and comment about his average being pretty good when Brad follows up with, "and it's not fair on him. Or me."

Taako recoils a little, looks up at Brad properly. "Not  _fair_ -"

"No," Brad tells him, kind but steely. "I can't organise half my life around instantaneous travel, and I can't expect Kravitz to be around to service my whims, and nor should you."

"They're not  _whims_ ," Taako says, even as the sinking feeling in his stomach kicks in, sickly unpleasant. "I'm not- I don't-"

"You said 'use Krav'," Brad says, relentless.

"I didn't mean it like  _that_ ," Taako protests loudly, miserable and defensive. Because he did mean it like that, a little. He loves Kravitz and Kravitz is affable and caring and doesn't mind but his advantages have become part of the fabric of Taako's life so quickly that most of the time it doesn't even occur to him to do things the usual way. "It's just more convenient, you gotta admit that."

"I don't want Kravitz' availability to dictate how I spend my time," Brad says. "And I don't think you want that, either."

Taako wants to scowl and sulk about being spoken to in that tone, and he's even more irritated because Brad is right, of course. He can't remember the last time he organised to go somewhere on his own. He doesn't have to think about that too hard to realise it's not a good sign.

"Fine," he says, abrupt. "Fine, fine." Glares at Brad - he might be more open to being bullied into reasonableness these days but he doesn't need to  _like_  it. "You're right, you jerk, you win."

"I don't want to  _win_ ," Brad says, and gentle reproach is probably worse than him being cranky if Taako is being capital H Honest with himself. "I just want to go to brunch with someone I care about."

Taako groans his capitulation, even if he's secretly a little pleased at Brad’s forthrightness. "I'm wearing sunglasses indoors and ordering bottomless mimosas," he says.

"I wouldn't expect any less," Brad answers, dry. He cards a hand through Taako's hair, slow blunt fingers drawing patterns over his scalp. Taako relaxes into it, which is a mistake, because he only barely registers Brad leaning in close to him, and then-

"But I'd be very happy to fuck you over the counter when we get home," Brad rumbles, low. He knows exactly how to pitch his voice for the best effect, apparently, because Taako can't help the whimper which tears free of his throat, or the hot flush of embarrassment that goes straight to his dick in its wake. "If you're good."

"I'll be good," he says, all the air sucked out of his lungs. There's a pleased hum, and another gentle stroke through his hair.

"Best get in the shower then, pet," Brad says. "You've got to make up ground after telling me to fuck off."

They're definitely going to be late to brunch. "I can manage that," Taako tells him, his own voice gone thick and muzzy with pleasure. "I'll do whatever you tell me to, baby."

"Good," Brad says, and smacks his ass. Ignores Taako's indignant yelp. "Get up."

"It's like you don't  _want_  me to suck you off." Brad ignores him, stripping efficiently before he heads to the shower, and Taako allows himself the moment to ogle; stare appreciatively at golden light on green skin, the messy coil of hair on his head, his  _ass_ , christ. "Although you're making a convincing argument right now, my dude, nice  _gams_."

He picked the slang up from Kravitz, delivers it in an exaggerated imitation of the reaper's work accent, and Brad utterly fails to hide his laugh. "Get up, or I'll leave you here by yourself."

Taako grumbles about it, still, but it's for show.

\--

Brad usually arrives at Goldcliff Station on Sunday at 2:45pm, fifteen minutes early - he’s run late for trains before and the thought of waiting for the 6pm is intolerable. But there’s an extra twenty minutes on top, today, thanks to construction farther down the line. Which is how he finds himself drifting over to the network map and fare information displays.

It makes sense, Brad assures himself, to look at pricing options. Buying return tickets every other weekend can’t be the most cost-effective way of doing this. But as he traces his path on the network map, trying to line up different zones and peak and off-peak fare information, it becomes abundantly clear to him that Faerun Railways have little interest in a ticket pricing system comprehensible to the average person. Not to mention these maps haven’t even been updated to include the Landfall line yet, which he tries not to take as a personal affront, but-

By the time the train pulls in Brad is halfway through internally composing a complaint to the PR team about the absolute inadequacy of their signage. It must show on his face, because when he steps into his usual carriage and hands his once-punched ticket to a familiar uniformed half-elf for collection, she does a double-take, and laughs nervously.

“Everything okay there, Mr Bradson?” she jokes. “You look like you're brewing your own personal stormcloud.”

It’s Brad’s turn to startle, and then feel sheepish. “Sorry, Elsie,” he says. “Afternoon. I was just trying to figure out the fare pricing system, but-“

“Oh, it’s a nightmare,” she nods, knowledgeably. “Reckon they make it difficult so y’all just give up and buy singles every time. What’s your schedule?”

It’s a straightforward question, and yet. “Landfall to Goldcliff return. A few times a month,” he says slowly. “Or. Perhaps once a week? Over the weekend.”

Elsie nods, forehead creased in a small frown as she stares into the middle distance. Of course she has no reason to smirk at him. “Okay so that’s… Zones B-E2… and, you go back on Sundays, when do you come up? I’ve seen you on Friday nights I think? The commuter run?”

“Yes.” The trip  _to_  Goldcliff is invariably awful, packed and sweaty and slow.

“Should get a monthly Faerunner,” she tells him, confident. “Cheaper’n doing it separately every time, you can roll over some of the balance if you don't use it. And between you and me, if you can get off work on Friday a couple hours early, you can transfer to the express at Neverwinter and skip the after-work rush completely. Get to keep your whole seat for your papers.” She winks at him. “Or you could just enjoy the scenery.”

“Thank you,” Brad says, surprised. And then, “You should be getting a bonus for doing the customer relations team’s job for them.”

“If you wanna fill out a feedback form and mention that I’d sure be grateful, Mr Bradson,” she tells him, grinning. “I'll make sure I've got some on me next weekend. Enjoy your trip!”

As Brad takes his usual seat - shaded side of the car, facing forward, next to the cafe because there's half a seat of extra legroom - he's thinking about her suggestion for the Friday afternoon. It would be more pleasant, hands down, to travel before the commuter rush, and it would shave time off the trip, too. The thought of arriving in Goldcliff early enough to help make dinner - or shower properly before he goes out again - feels impossibly luxurious. But then-

Brad could work on the train. Does already. Charity can handle anything which comes up in the afternoons, particularly if he signs off on hiring the intern she's been pestering him about. It's well within the Bureau’s flexible working arrangements policy, of course, although it's vaguely uncomfortable to think about accessing benefits mostly aimed at staff members with families to come up to Goldcliff to-

But it's still manageable. It's exactly the kind of arrangement he'd encourage any other staff member to make. Brad knows Lucretia would agree, and Charity would probably be delighted by the opportunity to take the reins. But he wavers, mulling it over, forced to admit to himself that he's hesitant not on his own part, but because of Kravitz.

Normally by now Brad would be well into a folder of budget forecasting, but he finds himself staring out the window of the carriage into the crisp winter afternoon. It's not as though Kravitz is disinterested, or not making an effort. He has been on time and present for everything they've done together, and has taken the initiative to organise much of it - all good signs. But if Brad is seriously contemplating a permanent change to his work schedule, it seems justified to ask Kravitz for some stability, too.

It feels petty to be thinking this way. Taako and Kravitz have clearly been managing fine, and would likely continue to do so, were Brad not in the picture. Asking - demanding? - a universe-saving alien with multiple lives and the indentured servant of a god to commit to a semi-regular domestic schedule is laughable, and Brad knows it.

But he also knows Taako, and he flatters himself that he's coming to know Kravitz. Taako moans and gripes but he never truly objects to routines. Kravitz seems amenable to all sorts of arrangements, provided he's given notice and time to consider them. And Brad knows these are things he personally needs; structure is important to how he lives his life, and romantic relationships in particular need something steady and constant after newness and intensity settle; a framework to hang things on.

It's late enough that shadows are already lengthening, the landscape burnished amber by sunlight; the time of year when time compresses and deadlines cluster together and there are never enough hours at work to get everything done. In previous years Brad has spent the months before Candlenights covering for colleagues who need time off, remaining constant in the office for his team. And for Lucretia, who'd never taken any time for herself and who, in Brad's careful estimation, needed someone else who wouldn't, either. With the benefit of hindsight and unearned intimacy he knows he was right, but things aren't like that any more, and Brad feels inclined to be selfish, for once.

He's already made the decision. There's an application he needs to fill out, but it's a formality, secondary to talking to Lucretia and especially Charity about it.

And Taako, he supposes. And Kravitz.

Brad fishes out his stone, sets himself a reminder to book in a meeting with Lucretia. Now he just has to make sure he doesn't talk himself out of it.

\--

Taako doesn't want to admit to himself how quickly Friday afternoons have become a highlight. Brad sends a text when he leaves Landfall, which is Taako’s usual cue to do some sort of domestic bullshit that he'll die before telling anyone he kinda enjoys. Today it's just dinner, which is good because he's all people'd out. Smoking hot nerds excepted, natch.

The knock on their door is as sharp and polite as it always is, and Taako tries not to grin too hard at the "I'll get that, darling!" from Kravitz, whose deliberate detachment is more obvious than if he just let himself race to the door.

Having Kravitz at home when Brad arrives makes everything a thousand times easier. Taako doesn't have to rinse his hands or dash out to let Brad into the apartment in between stirring things. "You're early," Taako calls over his shoulder, blowing hair out of his face, focused on the sauce. Bechamel winds him, especially these days.

He feels rather than hears Brad slide in behind him to drop a kiss to the top of his head. "Hey."

"Hello," Brad says. And, after a pause, "I took a few hours off at the end of the day. The train was actually quite pleasant."

"You should have called me," Kravitz says from behind them. There's a ringing sound of glasses, the squeal of a cork. "I would have come to get you." This is all absurdly domestic but Taako doesn't even want to object, though when he realises that's how he feels he has to stifle the urge to make light of it.

"I wanted to see," Brad says, and then, "Thank you." A wineglass appears next to Taako's elbow. "How were your weeks?"

Taako is grateful for this; for the genuine ordinariness Brad imposes on them, how steadfast he is about asking normal-person questions and staying interested in mundane details. It's easy to feel normal when someone like Brad acts as if it's so, to shed the prickly otherness which dogs him elsewhere.

Kravitz gives an update from the Astral Plane that Taako senses is only barely embroidered with mortal-friendly details, and Taako dramatises his various turns around the neighbourhood. Brad listens, his head cocked a little to the side, attentive and solid and passing the salt when asked. Taako has the entire lasagna assembled and into the oven before it dawns on him that he should probably return the favour.

"What about you?" Taako asks, into a lull. "Solve any cool accounting problems? File some urgent forms?" Apparently he's not quite ready to do the small talk thing without being kind of a shit about it.

Brad is leaning against the kitchen bench, right next to Kravitz, who's perched on the edge. There's a moment of silence, and Taako is suddenly nervous he's misjudged; clatters about in the sink to cover over the spike of guilt for making fun. "C'mon Bradson, give us the Bureau goss."

"I'm reducing my hours," Brad says abruptly.

"And why not, too," Kravitz says, satisfied. "You work too bloody hard, let someone else tally the books for once."

"I…" Brad hesitates. "It's not so much… the workload."

"Brad," Taako says, suspicious. "What's going on, you  _love_  your job. You're a huge nerd, you'll be a husk without it." And then, before Brad can answer him, "Is this some bullshit Lucretia's pulling, because I swear, Taako's gonna-"

"No," Brad says, sharply. "No, it's not that." He sighs and swirls the glass in his hand. "This is my decision, and she supported it without question. In fact I only asked to work a shorter day on Fridays and she told me to have a short Monday, as well."

The penny drops for Taako before it drops for Kravitz, probably because the reaper pays attention to the relevance of the day of the week only as far as necessary to keep track of the opening hours of his favourite cafe. Taako reaches out to brush his fingers against Brad's arm. "Are you- Brad, is this-"

"I want to spend more time here," Brad says, quietly. "I want you both to be part of my life." And because he's Brad he barges on, relentless, without giving Taako any time at all to quietly boggle over that. "But I need routine for that to work. I can't be stranded here without my things, I can't change our plans last minute."

"Brad," Taako says, helpless. He can't even think of the words.

Brad smiles briefly at him, and then says, "And- Kravitz."

Kravitz looks startled to be addressed directly, eyes widening comically as Brad turns to face him properly. "Yes?"

"I need you to agree to something, in particular," Brad says, determination obvious. Taako edges closer to them both, slides his hand into Brad's from behind, is gratified when Brad presses his thumb into Taako's palm. "And that's - I need you to have time without interruptions or distractions. Time totally free from your work, so you can stay until aftercare is over." Brad sounds so cautious; Taako is grateful and anxious and desperate all at once. "I know things can become urgent, sometimes-"

"Oh, Brad," Kravitz says, and chuckles a little. "Your concern speaks volumes of your chivalrous nature, truly, but I can promise you I've never suffered any adverse effects from being called awa-"

"I would prefer," Brad interrupts, "to be sure of that myself."

"Krav," Taako says. "Babe, I- I'm kinda on the same page, here. I just- it'd mean a lot to have you there." He pushes back against the urge to crack wise.

Kravitz looks between the two of them, self-assurance giving way to something more complicated. He murmurs, "Oh, dear. I've ballsed this up, haven't I?"

"You haven't," Brad says, firmly. "You've been perfectly open about your situation. But if I'm going to be making these arrangements I need to know you'll make arrangements, too."

Kravitz looks rueful. "It's just really... not the done  _thing_."

Taako frowns at him. "Lup and Barry-"

There's a flash of something in Kravitz' face which Taako doesn't know how to interpret. "Yes, well." Kravitz looks between him and Brad again, and sighs. "This is important to you both, isn't it."

"Yes," Brad says, still firm, and Taako nods, beseeching. Kravitz' mouth twists wryly.

"I can ask," he concedes. "But I can't promise anything, sometimes there are emergencies and I am actually  _very_  good at what I do." He stares up into Brad's face; reaches out to Taako, who takes his hand. "But then again, Her Majesty does owe me some favours."

"No doubt," Taako says. "You work too bloody hard." It's a terrible imitation of the accent and he knows it from how Kravitz' face splits into a grin, dissolving a second later when Brad curls an arm around his waist. Brad manoeuvres both of them onto a hug, and Taako is taken aback by how deeply it affects him. They stand like that for a moment, crowded around Kravitz, who laughs a little nervously.

"I must say I'm quite enjoying the role reversal here," Kravitz says. Brad and Taako exchange a glance, confused, and he elaborates. "You know, normally Taako's the centre of things. Not that I mind, obviously."

A sudden rush of guilt, then. Taako still hasn't said anything to Kravitz about how things have changed between him and Brad. There just hadn't been any good way to bring it up, and shit had kept getting in the way of the conversation, and now... Well. Now it's as though Kravitz already knows, or at least he's figured out part of it. Saying something would be weird, Taako thinks, but is not saying something also weird? He can feel Brad beside him, feel the question thudding away in his chest, but Taako has had basically all the emotional honesty he can handle in a single evening, thanks very much, so-

He chuckles too loud, pins Brad with a sardonic look. He's stomping all over the fragile intimacy of the moment and he knows it. "Oh, I get it. Yeah, you gotta stop calling him my boyfriend at some point, Bradson."

It's Brad's turn to look taken aback. "What do you-"

There's a roiling, strange feeling at the back of Taako's throat. This is a perfect distraction, and he’s nothing if not an expert at redirecting a conversation away from whatever he doesn’t want to talk about. But it’s cowardly, and there’s a niggling little voice at the back of his skull calling him out for it. "You call Kravitz 'my boyfriend' when we fuck," he says, the obscenity clumsy even to his own ears. He’s just doing this for  _now_ , goes the split-second reasoning. Not forever. The other shit’ll come back up eventually and he’ll be ready for it, then. "I know you've got a whole thing about him being a pretty little friend to watch me get wrecked or whatever but you're leaning into it pretty hard, right?"

"I don't - not  _always_ -" The expression on Brad's face - shocked, stricken - gives Taako a tight, nauseous kind of vertigo. The bottom dropping out of his stomach. He'd thought this was part of Brad's whole fake-mean schtick, but...

"I’d assumed it was deliberate," Kravitz comments, echoing Taako's thought with quite a bit more self-assurance. "Part of the game."

"No," Brad says slowly. "I didn't intend that at all."

"I don't mind that game, to be clear," Kravitz says. "Quite enjoy it, actually."

"Don't do that," Brad says, abrupt. "Kravitz, you deserve as much consideration as Taako does in all this. I care about you as well."

The vertigo is back, but it's almost hopeful, now. Taako doesn't want to think about how strange it feels to be so invested in something which isn't directly his, so he reaches out to curl a hand around Kravitz' wrist instead.

"I haven't been paying proper attention to how I've approached this, and I'm sorry." Brad is frowning, faintly, and Taako feels a mildly ridiculous urge to tug him downwards, smooth out his forehead with careful fingers. "After all that you told me about being  _folded into things_ , too, I-"

"Nonono you misunderstand me," Kravitz looks awkwardly down at Taako's hand around his. Taako doesn't really understand the conversation, which is obviously something they've talked about before, and he can't quite see the edges out of context, but -  that's okay, he tells himself stubbornly, that's the whole  _point_ here. "I'm not at all concerned-"

"I am," Brad says, direct. "So now, what do we do about it?"

The tangled, prickly feeling caught up in Taako's chest coalesces to a point. He exchanges a glance with Kravitz, who looks between them both.

"Well, then," Kravitz says, voice arch. "Would it assuage your consciences if I were spoiled a little?" The slash of a smile. "I've a few requests if you're minded to indulge them."

"Are these pre- or post-dinner kinda requests, 'cause I put waaaay too much time into that to let it burn," Taako says, grateful things are heading back toward their usual course.

"Oh, post-dinner of course," Kravitz says, grinning broadly now. "You'll both need the stamina."

Taako chances a look up at Brad; he looks as though he wants to keep a straight face but can't help smiling faintly. "I want to talk about this," he says, even as he leans in to drop the same kiss to Kravitz' forehead as he had Taako's, earlier. "You can't distract me that easily."

"I didn't say anything about distraction," Kravitz protests, chuckles a little. "I plan on talking about things in  _minute_  detail."

"Over dinner," Taako insists, and Brad smiles at him.

"Over dinner."

\--

The cuffs are cool around Kravitz' wrists; humming at slow intervals with an old, familiar magic. The sensation is bizarre, uncomfortable but not entirely unpleasant. The real oddness of it is that he can't feel anything else - that the spell does its work on him just as easily as any criminal he's captured. He realises he'd felt, irrationally, as though he should be immune to it.

But here he is, using one of the very serious tools of his job for sex. Taako's idea, but Kravitz has no complaints. If anything, he's taken aback by how much he's enjoying the boundary being blurred like this - it feels indulgent, illicit, and it's not even that hard to buy into the scenario of this being out of his hands. Not with Brad looming over him, rolling his shoulders, the usual neutral mask in place; not with Taako somewhere behind him, close enough that his breath is warm on Kravitz' neck. Both of them still completely dressed, which Kravitz guesses is a trick to make him feel exposed.

And it's working, because as well as this more mundane nakedness, when Kravitz reaches for magic - instinctively, without thinking about it - there's nothing there; a curious smooth absence where there's normally power, electric and lively. He really is just mortal like this, or near enough. And even though he expected that, agreed to it, there's an intoxicating spike of both alarm and arousal at the thought.

Kravitz flexes his fingers on his knees for no real reason other than that he expects it might draw attention to his cock, particularly when the short chain between the cuffs makes a tinkling metallic noise. "So," he says, and smiles winningly up at Brad. "I'm at your mercy."

For a second Kravitz thinks he's won a point - can see a light in Brad's eyes, thinks he might even break and laugh. But then he leans down, expression steely.

"I'm not feeling particularly merciful," he murmurs.

"Good," Kravitz says.

Taako's breathing is shallow in his ear as Brad nods and withdraws. Settles himself in place against the headboard.

"Taako," he says. Kravitz feels Taako shift behind him - sitting up straighter, he guesses, called to attention by the deliberate choice to use his name. "What do you think our pretty friend is hoping for?"

"He likes it to hurt," Taako says; he's tuning his own tone to Brad's, doing a remarkable job of mimicking neutrality except for the tiniest waver to his voice, how quickly he's breathing, stirring the soft hair at Kravitz' nape. "He hopes we'll both hurt him."

Naked and  _discussed_. It distantly occurs to Kravitz that this game is probably intended to be humiliating, and he certainly feels objectified, but also indisputably the object of everyone's attention. His cheeks heat, and he shifts, leans back, much more shameless about drawing Brad's attention to his dick the second time around.

"Very nice," Brad tells him, smirking, and palms his own half-hard cock without a hint of self-consciousness. "But I'm not going to touch you yet. Taako - he's all yours."

"Hell yeah," Taako murmurs. His hands go around Kravitz' chest, pull him backwards, curl around him to stroke as Taako noses in to bite a vicious kiss into Kravitz' neck. He's so strongly grounded in this body without magic that it's nearly too much, too intense too quickly, and he cries out; Taako huffs a soft laugh against him, soothes the bite with his tongue, nips at it again, and Kravitz' arousal recedes, leaving him lightheaded and laughing at himself.

"That was nearly over v- very quickly," he says, and he can hear how breathy he is already. "I'm- darling, I-" and chokes, as Taako runs an unkind nail up the underside of his dick.

The noise Kravitz makes sounds foreign even to himself, all desperate edges. Taako's being so callous is  _good_ , mean in the way Kravitz likes most, and being stripped of all his usual advantages makes it feel bigger than usual, overwhelming.

"Like that, huh," Taako says, quiet, and pinches a nipple. Kravitz cries out again, and lets his head tip back onto Taako's shoulder. Makes the mistake of opening his eyes, and he's greeted by the sight of Brad, legs splayed, casually tracing the shape of his cock with one blunt fingertip.

"Yes," Kravitz says. "Yes, I do."

Taako makes a low noise of approval, buzzing warm against the side of his face. “Shoulda been meaner to you from the start.” Pinches again, harder; traces Kravitz’ chest with sharp fingernails, dragging a scratch along the soft, sensitive skin at his side; pressing harder when Kravitz lets slip another noise. It’s such an odd, mortal thing but he thinks he might actually be  _ticklish._ He’d be delighted if he could focus on anything except Taako’s hands, Brad’s gaze, the whimpering clawing free of his throat.

“Brad,” Taako says, breathy. “Brad, please, can I- let me-“

“You can,” Brad answers. “But slowly.” Kravitz would laugh at how collected he still sounds, compared to Taako, compared to  _Kravitz_ , but he can’t seem to find his breath.

Taako pulls at Kravitz’ sides - “Kneel up for me babe,” - and he goes, shakily pushing himself up and out of his seated position, spreading his knees wider. Brad's smirk widens into something more predatory and there's a sudden cool at Kravitz' back as Taako withdraws, before the return of a teasing fingertip.

“Taako,” Kravitz says - gasps, really, his hips jerking into the touch. “Darling, please-“

“No.” Brad’s voice is firm, and he fixes Kravitz with a look that brooks no argument. “Stay still.” But he reaches out, at least, cradling Kravitz’ face in a huge hand. “None of that, sweetheart,” he says, almost tender. And as Taako presses a finger inside Kravitz, agonisingly slow, Kravitz turns his face to to breathe open-mouthed against Brad’s palm. “You’re ours to do with as we like,” Brad rumbles.

“Yes,” Kravitz moans, hands clenching and relaxing restlessly against his thighs. It’s hard not to unthinkingly touch himself, with his cock aching like this, but the weight of the cuffs on his wrists is a reminder. “Yes, I’m- whatever you want-“

“Noisy,” Brad remarks, pressing his thumb between Kravitz’ lips. “You’re lucky you sound so good.”

This isn't what it's like with Taako, Kravitz thinks, a little crazily. It's not even what it's like with just Brad. Both of them bracketing him in makes all of this feel different,  _more_ , Taako's fingers moving with steady intent. The deliberateness of it, the  _intensity,_ leaves him dizzy.

Brad noses in, murmurs something that Kravitz barely pays attention to, and kisses him. Kravitz pushes eagerly into it; messy and open-mouthed and moaning rhythmically with the movement of Taako's fingers. Normally he manages his reaction to this sort of teasing by dialling down his own sensitivity. Normally Kravitz is an expert at smoothing out the scattered trajectory of arousal, letting himself grow slowly more reactive as he senses his lover reaching the most the can take.

All of that seems distant and unimportant; that Kravitz may as well be somebody else, because he can't do any of it now. He just has to live with how far out of his control this all is; forceful fingers on his chin and slow, steady ones in his ass.

It's a languid, pleasant drowning. Sensation takes over, twin centres of pleasure absorbing every other thought he might have had, until it's as though there's nothing to him but what Brad and Taako are drawing out. It's not an entirely new sensation, but it's been a long time since he was as completely lost in it as this. He feels swamped, in warmth and arousal and pleasure. Taako's fingers slow, and slow, and stop. Kravitz hears the sound of Taako's skirt being hastily removed, and then there's the blunt head of his lover's cock nudging against him, and Kravitz exhales on a frayed moan into Brad's mouth.

"Slowly," Brad says against his lips; still an instruction to Taako, who obeys without complaint. He sinks into Kravitz gradually, the warm drag enough to have Kravitz whimper into Brad's ear.

"What is it," Brad says; smirks a little, when Taako thrusts forward again, when Kravitz whimpers. "What do you want from me, sweetheart? Taako will take care of you."

"I want," Kravitz says; swallows around the feeling in his throat, pulls the edges of himself back into the moment. "I want you- I want to feel you hit me." And, because he’d prefer not to damage his chances here, "Sir."

A lesser being or a more distracted man might have missed the flaring of Brad's nostrils, or the minute tightening of the grip on his chin, but Kravitz does not. "Would you like that, too?" he adds.

"Don't be cheeky," Brad tells him, and slaps his face, sudden and forceful.

The sharpness, the crack and sting of Brad's hand; it's all another sensation layered over the slow drag-thrust of Taako's cock, the warmth of his skin, Brad's grip on his face. Kravitz supposes that it might have the opposite effect on someone else, of breaking them out of this warm liminal space. For him, feeling powerless is comforting; being reduced to the construct, revelling in Brad touching him so gently while Taako steadily breaks him down, is genuinely gratifying.

Taako's hand curls around his dick, finally, finally, smearing his thumb through the precome oozing sluggishly from the head, pressing just too hard against him for Kravitz to properly relax into it.

And that's when Kravitz realises how loud he's gotten; the rasp of breath and the quivering of his moans in the wake of a cracking slap. But the realisation is unimportant and quickly dissolves, subsumed by the warmth of the glow radiating down his chest, out from the dull thud of the bruise building under the skin of his cheek.

“Please,” Kravitz manages. “Please, I need-“ and words fail him. He writhes, speared on Taako’s dick; barely registers the sharp answering breath, the nails digging into his hip.

“Taako,” Brad says. “However you like.”

Taako spits a bristling curse, hungry, and his hips snap hard against Kravitz' own. One of Taako's palms slide up his spine, straight into his hair, gripping. "Krav," Taako says. "Babe, you're so-" but whatever he means to say is lost to a moan and to teeth catching on Kravitz' shoulder, bearing down.

Kravitz' eyes have fluttered shut again; he prises them open when a pull on the chain between the cuffs lifts his hands over his head. His arms stretched up above his head like this begin to ache  _immediately,_  but he holds in place, locking his shoulders as blunt fingers seize his chin again, precise and implacable, an anchor.

"How long can you stay like this," Brad asks.

"Not- long," Kravitz admits. His arms are trembling already. The construct is so fragile.

"And how close are you?"

His voice is so tender Kravitz suspects this is again supposed to humiliate, knows distantly that Taako would glare and fight, but that's not how he plays this game.

"I can come, sir," he says. It'd be coquettish if his voice wasn't scraped raw by all the noise he's been making. "I just need - I need someone to-"

"Touch you?" Brad says, sliding a cruel finger through the mess leaking freely from Kravitz' cock, breaking a string of precome. Kravitz jolts, and hears Taako groan, feels his pace increase.

"No," Kravitz says, shakes his head slightly. "Please, I want you to-" and he lifts his chin, tilts his face, so the mark he can still feel on his cheek is in full view. "Again."

"Going to need your words, sweetheart," Brad murmurs; reaches out to trace a nail over the mark, sending sparks racing over Kravitz' skin. Everything narrows down to that spot; he's rocking back onto Taako's cock and his arms are quivering above his head and his own dick is steadily drooling, neglected, but-

"I'd like you to hit me again," Kravitz finally manages; straightens his head and delivers Brad as enticing a look of entreaty as he can manage. "Please, sir."

Brad smiles, and it isn't kind at all. "So polite," he says, and slaps Kravitz again, almost perfectly aligned with the mark from the previous strike. Even though he expects it, the shock of the contact runs through him like lightning. Kravitz shouts as he comes, untouched, shuddering and collapsing forward into Brad's arms.

Taako's hips against his go uneven and stuttering, and his voice is strained as he says, "Brad, I'm-"

"Go ahead," Brad says. His arms curl around Kravitz' back, kneading gently. There are three short, slapping thrusts from Taako, and the small noise of a held breath accompanying his orgasm. Kravitz has barely begun to come down from his own; feeling Taako come inside him is nearly too much, and he buries a wail in Brad's chest as he rocks his hips back into Taako's hands.

When both of them stop moving, Taako taps gently at Kravitz' hip, and he sinks gratefully to the bed, ignoring the hiss of protest as Taako's cock slips free, the slide of come in his wake. Kravitz twists to the side so he can lie with his head squarely in Brad's lap. Brad leans in over Kravitz' head to murmur "Lovely work, pet," and then comes the soft wet noise of kissing above him.

Kravitz is content to listen to it, dazed and warm and far away. He turns his cheek, breathes in the smell of Brad’s arousal, obvious even through his underwear. He's undone his fly and Kravitz can see Brad's own answering damp spot near the head of his cock.

Kravitz hums and noses in to breathe hot against the solid length of it.

The kissing stops, and through Taako's noise of protest Brad says, "Is there something else?"

Artifice is beyond him. "I want to suck your cock," Kravitz says, his voice rough. He's close enough to see how Brad's cock twitches, hear the quick breath he sucks in between his teeth.

"Me too," Taako says - and Kravitz would be fascinated by how his tone has reverted so quickly to the slightly bratty way he speaks when he's trying to provoke Brad, but he's distracted by the feeling of Taako peeling himself away from Kravitz. "Lemme help." No tease or demure eroticism, just eagerness.

There's movement, shuffling, and then Taako's face is near to his own. "First things first," Taako says, and kisses him, filthy and open-mouthed and tasting of Brad. There's a stirring that Kravitz could capitalise on, if he had access to magic; he could pull at the molten thread at the base or his spine, spin up his own arousal, offer himself up to be used again. That he can't is vaguely frustrating, but it's also pleasant to be suspended so perfectly in between the post-coital haze and a second round.

And then he can feel fingers on his cheek. Brad traces nails lightly over his skin again, the line of bone where he felt the full force of the slaps, just enough pressure that pain blooms bright again where it had faded to an ache. Kravitz moans, shocked anew by how immediate it feels.

Brad's breathing audibly quickens, and it only takes a glance for Kravitz to realise how flimsy the commanding mask has become. Brad is close to overwhelmed, keeping his face neutral through sheer force of will. The surge of triumph Kravitz feels is unexpected, but it's quite something to bring someone so strong and self-assured to the edge while cuffed and bruised and defenceless.

But Brad can still manage a smirk, apparently, as he tugs himself out of his underwear, flushed and hard and visibly wet at the tip. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

Kravitz exchanges a glance with Taako, who says "After you," a mockery of manners. And so he presses himself up on his hands, mindful of the chain, and tongues delicately at the precome leaking steadily from the head. He looks up at Brad - who stares back, eyes burning - and curls his lips around it.

Taako leans in close, and Kravitz knows the moment he too mouths at Brad's dick, not by sight but by the way Brad's hips twitch; the burst of salt on Kravitz' tongue. It's too much for him to stay impassive, so he moans loud and wet around Brad and swallows down as much as he can, feels Taako move out of his way. Brad curses, soft and uneven.

Kravitz and Taako find a rhythm, then, guided by the slow roll of Brad's hips, winding tighter as his breathing grows shorter. Kravitz nudges Taako's chin, draws him up for a kiss with Brad's cock between them, feels another distant pulse of arousal when Brad can't withhold a half-formed groan. Brad’s hand goes to Kravitz' face again, cupping his cheek, digging into his hair, and he lets himself be guided as Brad uses his mouth.

Taako keeps his mouth on Brad as best he can, but it doesn't take long until Brad says tightly, "I'm going to come on your face, sweetheart." Kravitz moans his assent, has barely finished making the noise before Brad yanks his head back and there's come striping his cheeks.

When Brad's grip on his hair eases, Kravitz opens his eyes to see him - eyes lidded, chest heaving - and says "Thank you, sir."

Brad's head tips back against the wall, and he laughs a little, breathlessly. "You're a monster of a thing, aren't you."

"Yes," Kravitz says, shameless. He reaches up to press at his cheek, slide his finger through cooling spend, winces - it's not as nice, now.

"Let me," Brad says, and reaches forward to cover Kravitz' hand with his own. He hums a short run of notes - the cleaning spell - before lifting Kravitz' hand away. Then he slides the pads of two fingers delicately over Kravitz’s cheekbone, which is starting to thud now that his attention isn't elsewhere.

"You don't need to," Kravitz says. He waves a hand, the chain clinking. "I can do it, I'll just need a moment, and if one of you could-"

"I want to," Brad interrupts him. His fingers are still circling, a whisper of a touch. "Kravitz. I'd like to heal it myself."

There's not much to say in the face of that implacable regard. "Of course," Kravitz accedes, and adds "dear one," without really thinking about it. He doesn't miss the slight widening of Brad's eyes, but says nothing; not really sure what  _to_  say, not yet. Taako is - perhaps wisely - silent, although he does take the opportunity to gently murmur the old, dark command word for the cuffs, tugging them loose and dropping them over the side of the bed.

Brad begins to hum. Kravitz has seen this process before but it's very different when the warm fizz of healing is dancing out over his own face, Brad staring intently at his fingers as they stroke bruises away. There's a shift in his expression, too, that Kravitz isn't entirely sure is conscious; a minute relaxing, something about his eyes.

Brad exhales a long breath, strokes once more, rests his fingers on the corner of Kravitz' mouth. "Are you well?" he asks, quiet.

Kravitz makes a small noise of agreement, wriggles himself into place against Brad's other side. "Perfectly so." He makes eye contact with Taako across the broad expanse of Brad's chest; Taako smiles at him, a rare real one.

It's perhaps worth it, Kravitz thinks, to give himself over to the limits of the construct every so often. The swirl of chemicals in his blood is distracting, but it's an enjoyable distraction, a fuzzy weightlessness as he comes back to himself that he's not inclined to cut short, though he could. And if this is worth it, then perhaps there are other worthwhile things to try, too.

"I’ve asked about regular time off," he tells them both. Brad shifts beneath him, opens his mouth to ask some tedious question about the leave application process, no doubt. "Here," he adds, and taps his temple. "She was extremely amused, by which I mean She agreed immediately but told me my co-workers will make fun of me for it. Likely true, but then, we all must make sacrifices."

There's a curious light in Taako's eyes; an ease about him, rounding off the edges. But then he says "So you're gonna turn up on time every Friday and then use all your good boy points to get hit in the face?" and it's gone, for the moment.

"Do you think that would work?" Kravitz asks, thoughtful, and as Taako snorts Brad says "He could help you with dinner."

"Not a fucking chance _,_ " Taako says, disdainful. "He sucks. Don't let him. Ban him."

"I promise not to invade your domain unless solemnly invited to do so," Kravitz says, trying to cloak his merriment and failing. "Consent is paramount."

There may be a sound more enjoyable than Taako groaning with annoyance over Brad's stifled chuckle, but Kravitz is yet to find it. "Seriously?" Taako complains. "That wasn't even funny, don't encourage him." He reaches over to press a finger to the tip of Kravitz' nose. "I'm gonna make you do all the onion chopping and then exile you to drinks duty."

"Perfectly acceptable," Kravitz says, cheerful. "I'll assist how I'm able."

"Kravitz," Brad says, and they both crane their heads to look at him. He nods, eyes soft. "Thank you."

It catches him off guard. A number of half-formed witty responses tumble through his head but what he finally says, halting, is, "I enjoy both your company too much not to try it out."

"I'm glad to hear that," Brad says, and kisses him on the head. "Very glad."

**Author's Note:**

> WELL SO
> 
> I wrote the first scene of this more than a year ago now, which feels extremely weird! I vividly remember standing in the line for coffee near my work gleefully posting filthy excerpts of it to twitter. And now... there's this? There sure is this.
> 
> Big ups to Gulch and Goose for I guess more than a year's worth of enthusiasm and yelling, as well as the broader twitter crew for being nice to me while I moped about how hard this was. Goose as always did an exceptional job taking the draft and making it way better - thank youuuuu!
> 
> Title from Crooked Colours ["Do It Like You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jr-xWa_Eb0Q).


End file.
